George sat and looked at me in disbelief. I had just told him everything, from my birth in December 2020, to my dad, to Will, to my older brother, to our graduation from West Point (his being two years earlier), to med school and Ranger school; the beginning of WWIII, the troop shortages, the four combat jumps I had made; the operating on men without my licensed; the sniper; the mortar that flung me through the air and finally waking up here. He lit another cigarette and looked at me.
"You're shittin' me. Either that or you hit your head on your way down." He blew out a puff of smoke.
"I can prove it!" I cried, ripping off the chain that held my tags and my ring. "Here, look." He took them from my hand gingerly as if they were going to bite him. He looked uncertainly at me before examining my class ring. It had a large Sapphire in the middle and two diamond spacer that broke up the words West Point 2040 wrapping around the jewels. The ring itself was made up of antiqued white gold with the West Point Crest on one side and the class crest on the other. He looked pallid as he took everything in.
"This doesn't mean anything," but his voice held uncertainty, like he just needed one more push to believe it.
"Here, then look at that." I showed him my tags. I could tell by the look on his face that they were like nothing he had ever seen before. The matte black synthetic information screen on the tags was only slightly bigger than his thumb and as flat as a sheet of paper. The tiny microchip inside ran on solar power and when touched flashed my information across the screen in white lettering. Captain J. Benally. 759328716. O Pos.
He was quiet for a while as he just sat there and studied the tags, rotating through the screens at an ever quickening pace. Finally he stopped and took a deep breath, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but just closed his mouth and studied it again.
"But I remember the day we all arrived here" He finally spoke. "I remember the past 6 months." I thought for a moment.
"What do you remember? Any specific details?" He thought a moment and I waited on pins and needles. I knew there was something else going on, something that I should know.
"I remember the day we met. I thought you were a scrawny kid who would end up quitting and heading to a desk job before the month was over. I remember those assholes from Dog makin' fun of you and fucking around with you just because you were an Indian. You sittin' there, not saying a word, not even acknowledging them like they didn't exist." He took a long draw from his cigarette. "I remember that Lieutenant, the one with the crazy eyes coming over and start yelling at the men before giving them extra guard duty. You stood toe to toe with that Lieutenant, unflinching until he turned and left the mess. Then I walked up to you, sat next to you and you finally spoke to me, the first time I think that any of us had ever heard you speak. You said 'their ass must be fucking jealous of all the shit that comes from their mouth.'" George let out a deep belly laugh almost involuntarily. "None of us thought you could speak any English and there you were cursing like a sailor on leave."
"That does sound like me," I snorted.
"You don't remember any of this?" There was a hint of sadness in his voice.
"No, all I remember is getting hit in the future and next thing I know I'm awake and it's 1942." I growled in frustration knowing, feeling that there was a huge piece of the puzzle missing and knowing that it was locked somewhere in my mind and I just couldn't access it.
"So, what?" george asked, "how did you get here if you're from the future?" He rolled his eyes, "I can't believe those words just came from my mouth," he muttered.
"I don't know." I rubbed my forehead. "This has got to be some science experiment gone wrong."
"They have that power in your time?" he looked a little sick.
"I don't know, maybe? I haven't heard anything about it if they do." I thought for a moment, millions of different scenarios running through my head. I tossed my hands up in frustration. "I have no idea. All I know is that one minute I'm on a battlefield with my men in the year 2042, and the next I'm laying flat on my back in the year 1942."
George puffed his cigarette and flinched, having smoked it down to his finger. He dropped the butt and stubbed it out with his toe, then lit another one.
"So, what now?" He asked after a time. I shrugged.
"Assuming I was sent here for a reason... then I need to figure that reason out... right?" My eyes begged him to agree as I grasped at the only explanation that I had.
"Oh, yeah... right... must be." He was trying to convince himself as much as I was trying to convince myself. We were quiet for a while. "We should tell Lt. Nixon," he finally said. My head snapped up.
"We told him I was a woman?" I asked. "He didn't just figure it out?"
"You don't remem- oh, right." He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, we told him about a month ago. He noticed something suspicious and confronted you. I was with you at the time, and we told him the whole story. Of course in that story you were an orphan who didn't belong to no one and you were born in 1920, but yeah, we told him."
"And he didn't turn me in... didn't tell Sobel or Winters?"
"We were persuasive." He shrugged. "He agreed to keep the secret as long as you continued to excel." He took a puff then stood up. "And as long as we keep him well supplied with Vat 69. Come on, he should still be up." He pulled me to my feet.
"What, right now?" I was apprehensive.
"Sure, better to get it all out now." he pulled me out and over to the officers barracks. He peeked through the window then ducked down, pulling me with him. "Don't move." He told me. He peeked through the window again, then stood and started waving his arms wildly.
"Subtle." I snarked quietly. He kicked me and continued trying to get Nixon's attention. He suddenly dropped down and winced. "What?" He shushed me.
"I think he saw me."
"Then why did you-"
"Shush!" He scolded. "Winters looked over, probably trying to see what Nixon was staring at.
"Why, did he look like some crazy person was having a seizure through the window?" I whispered back. He glared at me and pulled me around the edge of the building as the door screeched open.
"Don't worry, I'm just going out for a smoke." Nixon yelled back into the room before coming out and around the building towards us.
"Corporal Luz." He raised an eyebrow in question. "It there a reason you were waving at me like a madman?" I snickered and Luz shot me a glare.
"We need to talk to you, sir." Luz whispered, both of us still crouched down out of the sight of the other officers. Nixon nodded to us and then gestured over to the woods. George and I took off in the direction of the tree line, still crouched low. We moved swiftly until he stopped me at the edge of a clearing. He stooped behind a bush and peeked out, looking for the faint outline of Nixon who was no doubt just strolling along as if following a couple of running midgets into the forest was an everyday experience. "He's coming," he whispered.
"Good." I whispered back. I paused for a moment and thought out our situation. "Is there a reason we're still playing spies?"
"Yeah." He whispered back. "I think I threw my back out." He said in a normal tone of voice. I stood up and smacked him on the shoulder as Nixon made his way to our position.
"You needed me?" Nixon looked amused. George grinned.
"Oh yeah, you're gonna love this, sir."
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Nixon took slightly more convincing that Luz did, but an hour and a half later he was staring blankly at Luz and I.
"Jesus Christ." He sighed and lit another cigarette. I noticed he and Luz did that a lot when they were around me. I was amazed they could run like they did without hacking up a lung.
"Yeah." Luz was still grinning. He threw his two cents in during my tale and seemed delighted at the Lt.'s confusion. Nixon handed the chain with my tags and ring on it back to me. He blew out a puff of smoke and looked at me.
"Well, it looks like this plot just thickened."
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Three days later on December 4th 1942, the company arrived in Frying Pan area at Fort Benning for jump school. I had to admit it was a bit easier than the school I gone through in the past… my past… the future? Anyway, at least here we didn't have to slide down a rope from a hovering helicopter or practice high altitude drops.
I watched in slight amusement as the men went through the training with an air of unease. I had done this all during the summer of my Cow year at the Point, and had put it into practice since I made my first combat jump of WWIII and three subsequent jumps since then. So most of my time was spent trying to fly under Sobel's radar since that day I had been placed at the top of his shit list. He found every little thing wrong he could and punished me by revoking my pass at every turn.
Not that it really mattered if I had a weekend pass or not. I spent my weekends on post unless George physically dragged me from my bunk. He seemed to get a big kick out of seeing the local girls flirt with me and I found it amusing how he squirmed when I flirted back.
As January rolled around we made our last training jump and the men finally became the paratroopers they had been training so hard to become. There was a huge party for Easy that night where all the enlisted men celebrated their hard earned jump wings and the right to blouse their trousers.
Easy company had gone on it first furlough shortly after we received our jump wings. Having nowhere to go, Luz insisted on dragging me home with him. I pretested the whole way, but was secretly glad I didn't have to find somewhere to stay in a time that was still so alien to me.
After our furlough was over, we continued training at Fort Benning before setting out for Camp McKall where we lost Nixon to a promotion to S2. Luz and I were understandably worried about losing our only other ally in the company but we soon found out Lt. Welsh was a good man and a good leader.
From McKall we went to Kentucky, Tennessee and then Camp Breckenridge where I was dragged home with Luz for another furlough. Then back to training at Ft. Bragg. In August of 1943 we were transferred by train to Camp Shanks in New York where we were processed, placed aboard a transport ship called the Samaria and sent on our way to merry old England.
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Thank you to my lovely reviewers. Your comments were very much appreciated! Keep them coming!
Amanda
Edited 8/11/17